A Glitch of Thrones
by Right What Is Wrong
Summary: In which Jon's world becomes a video game... a Bethesda video game. [Parody. Oneshot.]


**Author's Note: **I read Gamer!Jon fics as a guilty pleasure. However, when I see crossovers with Elder Scrolls games, my mind is less on the game mechanics and lore and more on... other... aspects of that series.

* * *

Jon peered curiously at the device that had strapped itself to his arm. It spelled out, in glowing letters, **The Elder Scrolls VII: Westeros**.

"What happens if I press thi-"

The world around him vanished, and he found himself staring at a scene of green hills against a bright blue sky. A little box in front of him read:

**Error: ASOIAF . EXE has encountered a problem and needs to close. We are sorry for the inconvenience. **

**Please tell Microsoft about this problem.**

He tilted his head. Microsoft? Was that some sort of Essosi name? He had never heard its like.

He waved his hand over the **Send Report** option, assuming this was a way to send a raven to Microsoft, and looked about for a solution. Ah - there was an icon hovering before him labeled **ASOIAF**. Perhaps he ought to wave his hand over that?

Instantly, he found himself back in his original surroundings, and took a breath -

**Error: ******ASOIAF . EXE **has encountered a problem and needs to close...**

"Argh!"

Several aggravating repetitions later, he was able to successfully continue on with his life. He never found out what the problem had been, beyond some strange will of the gods.

* * *

"Robb," he said thickly as he bumbled his way through the practice yard, "whence came this strange fog?"

"Fog, Jon?" replied a concerned voice from out of the grey mist surrounding him. "Whatever do you mean? Do you need to see Maester Luwin?"

"No, I _swear_ -" Jon cursed and fumbled at the device on his arm, the only thing he could clearly make out through the pea-soup-like fog around him. He could only intermittently make out the hand in front of his face. After banging about on its buttons for a while, he input:

**TFOW**

Suddenly, all was revealed. He shook his head, scowling down at it, and turned back to the perplexed Robb. "It's nothing. It must just have been a trick of the light."

Confound it! That must have been the result of his earlier fumblings, when he'd been trying to learn about the current status of **TWOW**_..._

* * *

Jon dreamed of dragons.

Dragons flying upside down and backwards. Dragons rigidly soaring through the air without a single bodily movement, like statues flung from a height. Dragon corpses stuck in doorways, with those around them treating the great rotting bulks as nothing more than commonplace obstructions...

He was certain there was some symbolism here, but he couldn't quite understand it.

* * *

Jon fumbled in his device-enhanced pack for the scrolls he had been _accumulating_ from Winterfell's library, then at the last moment decided he was a bit peckish and took out a radish instead.

As he surfed out of Winterfell upon an ever-growing pile of radishes, he stared at the single scroll in his hand and decided the gods had a strange sense of humor.

* * *

After a long day of feeding the hungry with his newfound stock of extremely abundant radishes, Jon leaned against a wall and sighed, contemplating the device on his arm. For all of that, he still hadn't "leveled up", and-

He screamed as the wall gave way behind him and he found himself falling through open air. That was no fair, he thought furiously as he stared up at the place from which he had fallen. The damn stone wall didn't even have a hol-

* * *

Miraculously alive thanks to his **Gamer's Body **perk, though feeling quite sore at 2 HP, Jon limped to his room. He had gleaned from the device that it should be possible to brew magical potions with easily-gathered ingredients and enhance his dubious statistics. Well, he had nothing better to do at the moment, so he might as well.

He frowned as he looked at the "tooltips" the device offered. It said his brewing skill was dependent on his intelligence. It also said that one of these potions would "fortify" his intelligence. What happened if he brewed such potions, consumed them, and then used his enhanced skill to brew better ones?

An hour later, he burst out of his room, raving about his plans to "uplift" the entirety of Westeros, revolutionize the system of governance, and dig a canal across the Neck for whatever reason. Before he could rush off to act upon his crazed schemes, Ned, somberly realizing the Targaryen madness had flared up in his secret nephew, had Jon immobilized, sedated by the maester, and kept that way until his feverish rambling stopped. His promise to Lyanna demanded no less.

* * *

While investigating his newfound quest to save Bran from a horrible fate, Jon walked outside, only to see his younger brother falling from on high... and promptly bouncing as he flailed wildly. His uncontrolled movements sent his foot flying into Sansa's face...

**Error: ******ASOIAF . EXE **has encountered a problem...**

Jon rushed outside, knowing he could not prevent the calamity before him, only to be faced with an even more hideous sight: Bran's body losing all semblance of human form, his razor-thin, jagged limbs lashing out and ramming into anyone within reach as the central mass convulsed, looking more like a demonic spider than a human b-

**Error: ******ASOIAF . EXE **has encountered a problem...**

Jon crept outside, peeking between two fingers. Bran's body lay broken and bloodied at... around waist height. There was nothing supporting it as it floated towards Jon.

"What's the problem, Jon?" his body asked, head flapping about limply on his neck. "You look pale."

**Error: ******ASOIAF . EXE **has encountered a problem...**

Jon walked outside, sword already drawn, in fear of some fresh abomination confronting him. Gasps greeted him, but not at the unsheathed steel: instead, people were pointing to someone in the sky. Shading his eyes, Jon looked upwards to see a small, familiar form thrashing wildly as it ascended into the heavens...

_You will never walk again, Bran, but you will fly, _said a strange voice. Jon looked about wildly for the speaker, but -

_Wait, you're not - Damn it, I told them this event needed patching.  
_

**Error: ******ASOIAF . EXE **has encountered a problem... **

Jon walked outside wearily, wondering what he would see next, only to be confronted with no new horror. Nor could he see where Bran was right now. Hope bloomed in his heart. Perhaps he'd made it in time?

"-I do - for love."

He looked up at the sound of a man's voice, only to see the familiar form of his brother clinging to the tower wall just outside a window. "Bran? _Bran!_" He raised his voice. "Come down! It's dangerous!"

"The things I do - Damn it!" came a man's furious voice. "The things I do for l- _Fall, you damn brat! Fall already!_"

Jon hurried over and looked up; he could just make out a tall figure in the window shoving at his brother's immobile form. "The things I do -" grunted the figure, barely audible to Jon. "Cersei, help me dislodge this brat! Cersei?" A pause. "The least you could have done was leave me my pants, you bitch!"

"Unhand my brother!" Jon bellowed, unsheathing his sword.

"Oh, fuck this," muttered the figure high above.

**Error: ******ASOIAF . EXE **has encountered a problem... **

Jon had given up on attempting to save Bran and was instead wandering through the crumbling tower himself, attempting to learn who would soon send the boy to his terrifying demise. Unexpectedly, he heard grunting and moaning. Fearful at what he might find - some new, distorted spindly form, no doubt - he crept up on the room from which the noises came and looked in.

Seeing just an ordinary man and an ordinary woman locked in intercourse came as a great relief. That was, until he recognized one as the queen and the other as someone who was definitely not the king.

Wait, wasn't that her _brother_?

With a yell, the man sprang off of her and seized at his sword. With death moments away, Jon grabbed for something in his pack, caring not what, and flung it at the man.

The bucket landed squarely on Jaime Lannister's head.

Jon stood staring at the strange sight, and the Kingslayer's posture went slack. After a moment, he shrugged, turned around, and resumed his activities with his sister. Jon was speechless.

"What are you doing, you oaf?" demanded the queen, though Jon thought she ought to have found it most obvious what he was doing. She seemed quite familiar with the act, after all. "Get him!" She reached behind her and began fumbling with the bucket.

Figuring that what had worked once might well work again, Jon withdrew another bucket from his pack and flung it at her.

With a _clunk_, the second bucket covered the queen's head, and she shortly turned away. "What are you doing?" she demanded after a moment, and Jon flinched at the thought that she had resisted after all. "Harder! _Harder!_"

Never mind.

As Jon morbidly watched the perverse interaction, the buckets furiously jittering on the twins' heads as the Kingslayer wielded his second sword vigorously, a familiar figure came into view in the window. Bran stared curiously at the Lannisters, then at Jon.

Gritting his teeth, Jon withdrew a third bucket from his pack and made as if to throw it at Bran, who hastily retreated out of sight. The device on his arm lit up.

**Quest completed: Save Bran from a fate worse than death!**

**Quest reward-**

"I don't fucking care."

One bucket jerked up. "What was that?"

"Nothing," came the growl from beneath the other bucket, and the moaning and grunting resumed, unperturbed by any external disturbance. Jon crept away, not wanting to see any more of that. It had been a very long day.

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

**Error: ASOIAF . EXE has encountered a problem and needs to close. We are sorry for the inconvenience. **

Jon Targaryen, first of his name, cursed. He hadn't seen that error for _years. _And just after he'd reclaimed the throne, allied with his unexpectedly attractive aunt, and united the realm behind him to fight the White Walkers! Shaking his head, he waved his hand over the ASOIAF icon and readied himself for another round of restarting until it w-

**ASOIAF . EXE - System Error**

**This application failed to start because the-winds-of-winter . dll is missing from your device. Try reinstalling the series to fix this problem.  
**

Jon stared at the message for a long time, then buried his face in his hands.


End file.
